A grave danger beset them on the 15th. Their master bull (or male) camel had eaten poison, and fell ill; he was of immense value to the travellers, not only on account of his great strength, but because without his help it would be almost impossible to keep the young bulls in order, and they might elope with all the ewe (or female) camels. They administered to him a bottle of mustard in a quart of water—the only available medicine—but without any beneficial effect. In every herd of camels, it is necessary to explain, is found a master bull, who, by his strength, preserves order among his young brethren. These gay cavaliers are always desirous of a harem to themselves; and, if allowed an opportunity, would cut off three or four cows from the herd, and at full speed drive them for hundreds of miles. They are quiet only while under subjection to the master bull, and become intractable if, through illness or accident, his supremacy should be relaxed. Colonel Warburton was surprised at the marvellous instinct of the young bulls in his little camel harem; they knew that their master was ailing almost before the camel-men did, and at once showed signs of insubordination, so that it was necessary to watch them by night and to knee-halter them. The old camel did not improve, and on the 16th the Colonel was compelled to abandon him. Three misfortunes followed: on the 17th two riding camels were taken ill, having been struck in the loins by the night wind; and on the 18th the same fate befell Richard Warburton’s riding camel. Thus, in three days the travellers lost four camels. They endeavoured to make some profit out of the misadventure by “curing” a quantity of camel-meat. The inner portions of the animal were first eaten—not the liver and other dainty parts only, but the whole; every single scrap was carefully consumed, not a shred was wasted. Then, head, feet, hide, tail, all went into the boiling pot. Even the very bones were stewed down, for soup first, and afterwards for the sake of the marrow they contained. The flesh was cut into thin flat strips, and hung upon the bushes for three days to be dried by the sun. The tough thick hide was cut up and parboiled, the coarse hair scraped off with a knife, and the leathery substance replaced in the pot and stewed until, both as to flavour and savour, it bore a disagreeable resemblance to the inside of a carpenter’s glue-pot. As may be supposed, such a dish as this was not so nutritious as the roast beef (or mutton) of Old England; but it stifled for a while the cry of an empty stomach. The attack next fell upon the head, which was speedily reduced to a polished skull. As for the foot, like cow-heel or sheep’s trotters, it was looked upon as a delicacy, and its preparation was a marvel of culinary skill. First, a good fire was lighted, and allowed to burn down to bright red embers, while the foot, severed at the hock, was scraped and singed as thoroughly as time permitted.